


The Passing of Resentment

by ladyhoneydarlinglove



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, schmoopy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyhoneydarlinglove/pseuds/ladyhoneydarlinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark moments plagued Maria, most often after a particularly stressful day, where she felt the old stirrings of resentment bubble up in her chest. Malik helped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Passing of Resentment

The foundations of what would become Maria’s strange and wonderful relationship with the Grandmaster and his right hand man started early on, shortly after she and Altair returned to Masyaf as newlyweds. Dark moments plagued Maria, most often after a particularly stressful day, where she felt the old stirrings of resentment bubble up in her chest; resentment, though she did not regret the decision, about being forced to leave the Templar Order, and about ending up in Masyaf, of all places. Resentment towards Altair, for driving her to see what she’d worked so hard to deny. For bringing her here, though Maria never questioned her compliance. 

Maria hated those moments, because she was certain now the Brotherhood’s quest to bring justice to the world far outshone that f the Templars, and few were the men on this earth who could compare themselves to Altair—but when old wounds split open, she stood helpless against the torrent of emotions which came crashing over her. And though these moments never lasted long, they caused her a copious amounts of anguish; these times when Maria despised her new life, became furious she had been cut off from all she’d worked, the cause she’d dedicated the better part of her life to serving, and wanted never to see Altair again.

She never said anything; it bothered Maria, how she couldn’t seem to overcome her past. It plagued her, and for well over a year Maria dealt with it in silence, refusing to acknowledge her weakness. It never occurred to Maria there might be someone within the Brotherhood who shared her dilemma. Maria assumed she alone in Masyaf carried her problem, because no one else she encountered seemed to have the same reservations about Altair. While true that resentment and jealousy could be found anywhere (and Maria always, always kept a close eye on Abbas), no one seemed to be afflicted by the same internal war; the pain of having their world turned upside down. There was the treason of Al Mualim, but a shared and rapidly fading betrayal hardly seemed comparable. The Brotherhood remained the Brotherhood, despite its treasonous Grandmaster. Maria did not remain a Templar. She found no empathy for her plight.

And then one day, Malik and Altair came to blows in the peak of a terrible argument, and when Maria went to Malik later to offer her support and comfort, and tend to Malik’d black eye, she found out the reason for his missing arm.

The revelation left her reeling. Her own troubles seemed difficult enough; being ripped from her world and thrust into the one she’d been fighting against all her life, to fall in love and marry a man who had tried both to kidnap and kill her. Robert de Sable fell by Altair’s blade, a deep wound at the time, but in the wake of her newfound opinions on the Brotherhood and the Templars, Maria found her anger diminished. Maria lost much thanks to Altair, but it was all, in one way or another, replaceable. The Brotherhood took the place of the Templars. Altair took the place of Robert. Love and acceptance of her new life took place of anger and hate, except for those small, horrible moments when it didn’t.

But Malik lost a brother and an arm by Altair’s hand, neither of which could ever be replaced, and yet he did not seem to hate Altair. Quite the contrary, Maria often suspected something lay between them stronger than friendship before her, highly unusual, though Maria found she didn’t mind. Maria marveled at Malik’s capacity for forgiveness, at the idea that Malik lost so much by Altair’s doing, and yet could call Altair his most loyal friend.

And so, after more than a year in Masyaf, Maria told someone about those little moments where she felt the old remnants of hatred coursing through her, because Malik could understand. Her reluctance to admit weakness made it difficult to discuss, but Malik listened patiently when she told him, and by the end of her confession, Maria felt at ease. She waited with equal patience as Malik took the time to consider his answer to her questions: how did she make those moments stop? How did she banish the resentment, and replace it with love? How did Malik manage it, especially given what had been taken from him?

“The Altair I know now is not the same Altair who went with me to Solomon’s Temple,” Malik explained to her, words careful and measured. “He is wiser now, and repentant. His arrogance is… Well, it’s still there, but it’s diminished. He no longer believes himself above being wrong, nor does he believe he is above apologies and remorse. He is a different man now; a better man.” Malik smiled at Maria. “And if I keep that in mind, I do not feel the need to hate him, because what happened is the fault of someone else.”

“And you never feel resentful?” Maria asked. “You don’t have moments where you despise him for what he did?”

“I do,” Malik admitted. “But they are so few now that I barely pay them any attention. They fade with time; mine used to occur much more frequently, but as the years have passed and I have grown closer to this Altair and further from the one in Solomon’s Temple, they seem to have ceased.”

“Thank you,” Maria said. “I have never been more grateful for advice.”

Malik smiled, touched her arm gently, and told Maria that if ever she needed to speak about it again, Malik would be there for her, so she would not be alone.

Later, as she lay in bed with Altair, Maria made mention of how lucky Altair was to have a friend as loyal and dependent as Malik. She did not miss the way Altair stiffened just a little, not in disagreement, but something else. “I am beyond lucky,” Altair said in response. “I am blessed.” And in that moment, Maria could say for certain something deeper than friendship lay between her husband and Malik.

Maria thought she ought to be angry that Altair loved someone else besides her, but she wasn’t, because as time passed and her relationship with Malik grew deeper, Maria began to realize she loved someone besides Altair, and, conveniently enough, the person they loved who was not the other happened to be the man. So it wasn’t a surprise when Maria happened upon Altair and Malik in the archives one afternoon, both asleep on a pile of pillows and cushions that appeared to have been assembled from every available resource in the room. The various books and scrolls scattered about them, and the inkpots and quills that were in danger of being kicked over by Malik’s twitching foot seemed to suggest they’d been working, but the afternoon heat prevailed; they were both fast asleep. Altair reclined against a particularly large, squashy pillow, and Malik nestled against Altair’s side, head resting comfortably on the Grandmaster’s shoulder while an arm wrapped itself protectively around Altair’s waist.

She should be jealous, angry even, at catching them in a position like this. And Maria was, a little, but it wasn’t because she’d caught them like this; it was because they hadn’t bothered to invite her.

So Maria slipped across the room and lay down so she too could snuggle up to her husband’s side and rest her head on his shoulder, splaying her hand over his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat against her palm. Altair stirred, his eyes opening, and though it took him a moment to register Maria’s presence, when he did, he looked at her for a few seconds before turning to gaze at Malik, who also stirred, and then back at Maria. He looked confused, as though he couldn’t quite understand how he’d ended up with two people curled up against him instead of one, though he didn’t seem to mind. Malik blinked slowly as he tried to take Maria’s presence in, and finally, he murmured her name in a sleepy, questioning voice. “Maria?”

Maria smiled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” She leaned to give Altair a soft kiss, and then over to do the same to Malik.

Malik looked surprised when Maria pulled back to rest her head on Altair’s shoulder once more, though not displeased, and after a moment he settled back down as well. Maria felt Altair shift under her, unsurprised when he too leaned down to give Malik a soft kiss, and then moved to give Maria one as well. And then it was Malik’s turn, first giving a kiss to Maria, and then one to Altair before returning to his previous position, and Maria would always like to go to sleep with kisses like that.

She felt Malik’s hand on her waist, and then Altair’s, and when she glanced down, Maria could see that their fingers were intertwined, arms wrapped around her protectively. The sight made Maria smile, and the hand that was on Altair’s chest moved to stretch over Malik, searching for Altair’s hand until she found it and wound their fingers together as well, locking their arms around Malik. She would have liked to lock fingers with Malik as well, perhaps behind Altair, but there were only five arms between the three of them, so Maria’s spare could not be helped.

Maria opted for closing her eyes instead, head settled comfortably against Altair and arm wrapped comfortably around Malik, and let sleep claim her.


End file.
